It is October, and the sun is already low in the sky. A light drizzle of rain has dampened your hair and your clothes, so they stick to your skin. You shiver and wipe the water from your eyes. Ahead of you, on the right-hand side, is the village church. Cutting through the graveyard will get you home more quickly, and you have taken the shortcut many times before. Though that was during daylight. Thunder cracks and roars overhead. The rain falls harder, pelting your skin. You decide to take shelter in the church until the storm passes.
The gate is padlocked, but the wrought iron fence is short and easy to climb over. Once you are on the other side, goosebumps pinch your body. Your heart beats faster and you feel as though someone is watching. Like you are trespassing.
